


Pour guérir, il faut une transition

by Void_Kitsune



Series: Memories 'verse [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alpha Alby, Fox Stiles, Gen, Kitsune Minho, Mountain-lion Newt, No relationships yet, Poor Thomas, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), The Incident, Werewolf Alby, Witch Clint, grievers are dicks, how Thomas/Stiles become a were-fox, the cliff, were-fox Thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_Kitsune/pseuds/Void_Kitsune
Summary: Pour guérir, il faut une transition means To Heal, One Must TransitionIt's French. I like the idea of all one-shots having French names lol.Blame xyzhnielle.How Thomas became a fox.





	Pour guérir, il faut une transition

It started of like any normal day in the Glade for Minho and Thomas. They arose early to be ready in time for the opening of the gates so they could spend the day running. But they quickly found it taking a turn for the worst before even midday.

 

While the human and Kitsune pair ran towards the outer section of three, they were ambushed. Both shouting in alarm as Thomas and Minho were split up- forced to take different directions to avoid the griever.

 

A glance over Thomas’s shoulder revealed the griever had chosen to trail him.

 

His heart pounded with fear, the fear creating an adrenaline rush which drove him fast.

 

There would be no crushing it this time, he would have to outrun it somehow.

  

It dove around another corridor from him and Thomas allowed himself to slow, it would be a while before he reached another opening from a different direction. He used the chance to breathe, being careful to listen for metal feet against concrete slabs.

 

Thomas backed up and began to back-track towards where they had been ambushed. He froze as he heard the scattering of metal.

 

He peered around the corner that the griever had taken before passing.

 

He’d muted his pack bond just enough to not cause any alarm to the others- Minho had likely done the same. It was just something all Runners had started doing once Grievers begun appearing during the day.

 

It was rare for them to come out at daytime but not impossible. Truthfully this had been the first time that Thomas had encountered one at daytime. The other Runners hadn’t been as lucky but they were lucky enough to escape without being stung or to badly injured.

 

Arriving Thomas spotted Minho’s shoe imprints in the loss gravel, he trailed them.

 

He nudged at his link with the Kitsune, he received one in return.

 

_‘I’m following your shoe marks, where are you?’_

 

_‘I didn’t go very far- shit!’_

 

Thomas froze and a moment later running echoed, followed by metal feet scampering after the former sound.

 

A shout came from behind and Thomas turned in time for Minho to grasp his arm and tug him into a run. Thomas did so.

 

The griever screeched behind them.

 

They turned a corner and dread settled in their stomachs as the path they’d landed on led to the Cliff. They continued however.

 

 _‘Think we could try and get it to slide off the edge?’_ Thomas questioned.

 

Minho hissed aloud before answering, _‘Are you crazy?’_

 

_‘What else can we do!’_

 

Minho gave silent acceptance. They skid to a stop at the edge and turned to face the oncoming griever. It slowed to a stop and screeched at them.

 

Thomas grimaced as saliva was spat from its horrid mouth.

 

“Come on!” Thomas shouted. Minho yelled his own encouragements too.

 

It screeched and ran at them.

 

 _‘Wait for it,’_ Thomas ordered.

 

 _‘Wait-_ **_now!’_**

 

They threw themselves to the sides and there’s a screech, skidding of metal against concrete and suddenly instead on landing on his side, Thomas is still airborne and- a scream escapes as Thomas is sent flying from the final attack of the griever by its tail. It whacked powerfully into his side and ultimately send him straight into the wall front side. There’s a sickening crack that hits Minho’s ears as the screech of the griever fades into nothingness.

 

His eyes widened as his entire body ceased to work, Thomas’ body flopped to the ground unmoving. Finally, after serval frozen moments that felt like an eternity, Minho rushed forwards, dropping to his knees beside the human. The _fragile_ human.

 

“Thom-…T-mas-… Sh-t… o-en yor eyes!”

 

Minho’s voice hits his hears like a radio unable to catch a full signal. Thomas managed to do as asked by his friend but finds it incredibly difficult to breathe, his rubs unusually tight and dig into his lungs as he gasps for breath.

 

“C-Can’t-,“ he wheezed out, shaky hand reaching up to grasp Minho’s shoulder.

 

The Kitsune knows what he meant immediately, his face tightening in fear and worry. Minho adjusts Thomas, biting his lips as the whisky brown-eyed boy moaned loudly in pain. The Kitsune slides his arm under his legs and his other his shoulder to lift Thomas bridal-style.

 

Minho wants to cry as each movement jolts Thomas and the boy lets out a screech in agony.

 

“You gotta hang on, Tom-boy,” Minho pushed himself faster, his voice wavers as he continues: “I’ll... I’ll get you back to the Glade in no time what’s so ever.”

 

Thomas just moans, hardly conscious at this point.

 

**§**

 

Thomas thinks he comes to serval times but never enough to open his eyes or stay awake for long periods of time, fading back into unconsciousness quickly after.

 

He remembers being in agony and serval hands touching him.

 

He remembers voices- quiet and muffled like he was underwater.

 

He remembers a wave of heat flooding his body before slowly easing off and most of his pain began to flee.

 

When he finally comes to, his head hurts- he doesn’t think he’s ever felt such a headache before. There’s a wet cloth on his forehead which clashes against the warm feeling in his cheeks.

 

His lids flutter as movement close by draws his attention. His eyes clear and Clint comes into focus. He makes a sound, his throat was dry but it was loud enough to catch the witch’s attention.

 

“Thomas,” he breathes and kneels beside his cot. He lifts the cloth and helps ease the Runner into a sitting position.

 

It hurt, his body was stiff and sore. His head pounded and there was a bandage around his head. He frowns and lightly touches it.

 

Shouldn’t his ribs be hurting too?

 

“What happened?’ he questions, voice scratchy from lack of use, “Why aren’t I in as much pain as I should be? I hit a wall, didn't I?”

 

Clint bites his lips and Thomas is immediately nervous.

 

“I’ll get Ably and Newt. They’ll be able to explain better than me.”

 

**§**

 

“So…” Thomas trailed off, “Clint wasn’t skilled enough to be able to heal my injuries, so-,”

 

“I was forced to bite you,” Alby finished, eyes flashing red briefly.

 

Newt was sat silently from his space beside the Runner, listening to the conversation pan out.

 

“How long was I out for?”

 

“A week,” Newt finally speaks, Thomas turns his gaze onto the blond, “The transition took a lot out of your already weakened body. For the first two days, we didn’t think you’d be able to handle the change because of your state but you managed to pull through last moment.”

 

Newt bit his lip as Thomas stares at his hands.

 

“So, I’m a wolf now?”

 

“No,” Alby and Newt answer immediately. Thomas frowns.

 

“While being bitten by a wolf almost always results in another wolf, there is an off chance that the recipient doesn’t become one- from what I can remember, it’s rare and normally a result of something that had happened to them before the bite that might cause the different outcome,” Alby explained, crossing his arms and lent back on the chair.

 

“So, what am I then?”

 

“A fox,” Newt answered with a twitch of his lips, flashing his golden green eyes.

 

Thomas’ eyes flared a piercing orange gold in return.


End file.
